Introductologue

I wish I had thought to bring with me some paper and a pen.

It was said, when I was in school, that some authors used the old fashioned writing materials out of preference (although I didn’t believe what the teachers said). Beyond that no good reason, in my young mind, was given for the use of such things. After all typing was much quicker and if one couldn't type then one couldn't write so what was the point. In the initial flush of being given the option to use as much power as I wanted while I was... away, I chose all sorts of games, gadgets, tablets, and other such things; but I neglected to think of non-powered items I would desire. There I times I wish for a simple piece of designed plastic or stuffed cloth that doesn't respond, speak, move, or play music. I think back to the times when I was little and enjoyed taking my "horse" out on rides in the park behind our house. I had several horses--neighed, galloped, growing hair, changing color--and all but one required a certain amount of power. power wasn't rationed as strictly in those days so I could get tired of them long before my allotment of power was up. The horse I loved most, though, was one that required no power. it was also this horse that I think of most often while drifting around my compartments with nothing to do. It seems silly to think of toys of childhood up here, but really it makes more sense than thinking of "grown-up" things like politics and celebrities. I frequently wish I could trade half my power using devices (which I no longer use that much) for that old horse made of velvet like fur stuffed with small, slightly squished from over use foam balls. So instead of my horse, pen, and paper I am stuck with beeping electronics, touch sensitive "writing pads", and the contrast of outside.

You may wonder why it is that I desire to have such ancient and barely heard of instruments. Certainly, if I had been offered a sheaf of paper and a bundle of pens before my launch I would have scoffed at the gift and then refused them as being useless compared to their mass. Being alone up here has changed me however. I always had a sense of being alone and perhaps lonely, but actually being up here alone is different. I no longer have distractions that say I should want to be with large groups of people and I should want to have everything that I do. Instead there are only solar flares to remind me that things change. So I look to my inner thoughts and wonder what they are doing there.

Today, I decided to write a journal. I wish I had pen and paper because then my writing could betray my inner thoughts. If I wrote, “I hate being alone in the vastness of this all.” I might be able to tell what words I believed in by looking at the strokes of the pen that were left on the paper. The “a” in hate might betray that I really do not hate, while the stroke of the “a” in vastness would tell me how much that word, that space, meant to me. Instead I am stuck with this pad that writes all the a’s in the same manner, unless I change the font. But changing font is a conscious decision. I want my unconscious feelings to direct my writing. I think I now understand why some writers abandoned the faster method of typing for writing on paper, even though it was expensive to do so. I tried writing in a paint program, but it recognized that I was really writing and converted it to this horrid font called “penmanship” that didn’t resemble any writing I have ever done. So, I shall have to muddle through this diary and why I want to write it without the aid of ink.

I fall into a similar quandary as Kopper. She felt a need to be able to see some response to her writing to determine direction. I know what I want to write about her, but I don’t know what you, the reader, want to hear. What you don’t know about her life, what stories you have already heard, what history of that era you know, what you believe about the leaders of her times, what science you have learned or wish to learn, what stories you have yourself made up about her. So I am stuck with telling this story without seeing how you respond to the information that I give to you about her and the times. Forgive me for leaving you wondering in some places about the inner workings of something you don’t understand. In some cases I do not know exactly how it was at that time and in other cases I assume you know more than you do; both cases are bound to happen in the written word when it is about a world long enough ago that people begin to re-write it through legend.

This book intends to be history, though not through a way that is typical. It is not intended to be a definitive biography that lays out the facts in a story like form. It is also not historical fiction where much of the detail is made up and the basic setting is taken from fact. Instead, I read the diaries (the unedited versions) of Kopper and tried to extract her feelings, ideas, tone, and facts that she perceived without straying too far from the facts. I will attempt to quote some of her diaries (translated by myself so I apologize for the similarity between her writing and mine, thus the word attempt is used), as they seem pertinent to the story and understandable, without editing. Doubtless, this work will be heavily criticized since Kopper has been made into a faultless hero now and I do not portray her as such. Perhaps I do this to her because I remember when I was little this not being the case. I am old enough to remember a time when there was still a chance of finding the humanity of her through old memories and stories. Now she has grown into a legend that has been polished, pared down, and built up to a point that is unrealistic. Almost certainly, she would have objected to such an image as I do. We both believe in only one perfect life. Even if you do not believe such things, I still invite you to continue reading so that you may understand my perspective better, if only to have better arguments against it.

Second to last, I would like to address the format of this book. I do not intend to cover Kopper’s life chronologically. Instead, I’ll take the lead from her diaries. Part of the reason that unedited versions of her diaries are almost unavailable is because there is such a push for fixing the chronology of them. She makes no attempt to cover things in a chronological manner, but I think her method is more cohesive in telling her story. Perhaps even without the paper, her subconscious was able to organize her thoughts for her in a way. Again, my personal belief is such that I believe that organization was inspired to be such, but I will leave you to draw your own conclusions. She dove right into the middle of her life on board the sun catcher and took current events (if you can imagine the passage of time aboard a sun catcher as having events) as inspiration to look into her past. I will try to do the same with some more details that she left out since she was writing for herself and, perhaps, for those a little closer to the story. Once she was back on earth she fell into recording her thoughts rather chronologically. Except for a summary page at the end of each diary (back on earth she was able to obtain some coveted paper, which she sewed into books by herself). Instead of putting these summaries at the end of sections, I will put sections of them at the beginning of events. I do not think this will ruin the story, but rather I think she intended to have the summaries read first. This is indicated by the vagueness with which she assesses the events and also by the cryptic phrase, “Let not the words of The Chosen One to Mrs. Z’s request be only for positions of people, let these words also apply to their brother words.” My thought, after struggling with her reference to the mysterious Mrs. Z, is that she didn’t know she wanted an introduction until she had nearly written the end of her first diary. I also think she didn’t want people to read it first unless they had already heard (and thought about) the stories, which explains why she waited until the last diary to write instructions regarding these summaries. You almost certainly have heard and thought about these stories, or else you wouldn’t pick up this book, so I’ll put the summaries first as Kopper would intend you to now read them.

Finally some slightly boring background on Kopper and her name since she never addresses it. Kopper Light Elgin was born towards the end of the Common Era. It was thought in those days that they were fulfilling the very name of their era (though the common people had just switched from calling it A.D. not a quarter of a century earlier). The countries had just narrowly avoided a world war by negotiating new boundaries, but more on that later. Kopper preferred to be called by her first name rather than her last because, though she loved her parents, they were famous in their own right then, so trying to be obscurely independent she chose to go by just Kopper Light. Her parents, being nerds and fascinated by the energy crisis, chose her name by looking at things they thought would become antiques. The first thing that they found hanging around in the lab at the time Kopper was born that fit this description, was a large copper wire. Of course copper wire did not become an antique, but it did not continue to be used in the manner that it was at that time. Also, since her parents were computer nerds, they couldn’t remember if copper was spelled with a “k” or a “c,” which turned out all right since Kopper herself later decided that she rather liked the “k” and ceased resenting her parents naming. And with no resentment, we shall delve into her life.